Indisch Ontzwijgen

The exhibition is called Indisch ontzwijgen or Dutch-Indonesian unsilenced. In the Dutch-Indonesian community we have a saying called ‘Indisch Zwijgen’ (Dutch-Indonesian Silence). This refers to the condition of intergenerational trauma that inhibits community members to speak up about our painful past. As a part of this community, hoping to engage with this intergenerational trauma, I am to break this silence. Therefore, this exhibition talks about the past. It talks about the pain. It talks about the joy. It talks about the embeddedness. It talks about the misrepresentation. It talks about the community. It talks about the intergenerationality. It talks about the body. It talks about the embodied knowledge. It talks about connections to ancestors. It talks about love.

It talks.

And so, it breaks the silence – it unsilences. Indisch ontzwijgen is the start of a long project. A project that I do because others couldn’t. it is a project on inter- and generational connectedness. For all those who question, who wonder and who feel. And for all who want to come along for the process. In solidarity.

Truthtelling:
disrupting colonial history tellings

"Spice trade" (2023)

Spice trade consists of two works. The first is a historic botanical print of a nutmeg plant. In between the leaves, we see words written in gold that reflect the violence that were committed in the name of the spice trade. Whilst colonialism is an incredibly violent system, in Dutch discourse, it is often reduced to mere trade relations. Adding to this, is the praise of all the amazing spices that the Netherlands gained access to through this trade. This hides the violence that is entrenched in this practice.
Firstly, to gain a monopoly on nutmeg, Dutch colonisers came to the islands Banda in 1599 which at the time was the only place in the world where nutmeg grew. To gain exclusive access to the spice, in 1621 the Dutch committed genocide against the Bandanese inhabitants (Manuhutu, 2022). The Northern Maritime Museum estimates 14.000 Bandanese inhabitants were murdered, forced to flee, or enslaved to work at the nutmeg plantations (Northern Maritime Museum, 2023).

This piece aims to disrupt the innocence around the spice trade narrative. While at first it seems like an innocent painting, looking at the text in it, highlights the violence that is hidden behind the leaves. Whilst the botanical piece might hide the harm between the leaves, the second part extracts the harm and places it on a black canvas – now the words are highlighted and cannot be ignored anymore. The other set of works further disrupts this innocent spice trade myth. It portrays a gun, taken from the painting ‘De slachting door de Hollanders op Banda in 1621’ (The slaughter by the Dutch on Banda in 1621) from the Museum of Banda, Rumah Budaya (Manuhutu, 2022). The painting depicts the brutal genocide committed. By taking the gun from the painting and decorating it with spices, it re-emphasises the link between the violence committed and the objective to monopolise the spice trade. While many of these spices are staples in the average Dutch kitchen, it is collectively forgotten how access was gained to them. As such, the related piece screams ‘Was it worth it?’ written in spices. It is placed above a painting of the conquest of Jakarta. This work also emphasises and reasserts the harm that is perpetrated in the name of the ‘spice trade’. The pieces aim to disrupt the colonial amnesia and selective memory about what colonialism was. Instead, it acknowledges the violence of the system, of which we find the legacy in our kitchens.

The second part of the 'spice trade' works further disrupts this innocent spice trade myth. It portrays a gun, taken from the painting ‘De slachting door de Hollanders op Banda in 1621’ (The slaughter by the Dutch on Banda in 1621) from the Museum of Banda, Rumah Budaya (Manuhutu, 2022). The painting depicts the brutal genocide committed. By taking the gun from the painting and decorating it with spices, it re-emphasises the link between the violence committed and the objective to monopolise the spice trade. While many of these spices are staples in the average Dutch kitchen, it is collectively forgotten how access was gained to them. As such, the related piece screams ‘Was it worth it?’ written in spices. It is placed above a painting of the conquest of Jakarta. This work also emphasises and reasserts the harm that is perpetrated in the name of the ‘spice trade’. The pieces aim to disrupt the colonial amnesia and selective memory about what colonialism was. Instead, it acknowledges the violence of the system, of which we find the legacy in our kitchens.

Gold Reframed (2023)

Gold is a recurring element in my work. The use of gold symbolises disruption. When colonial history is taught and discussed in the Netherlands, it is often glorified. When school textbooks discuss this part of history, it is explained in context of the great colonial empire. It discusses the great global trade in spices and goods. It highlights how impressive it is for such a small country to colonise such a gigantic empire.
For me, gold symbolises this glorification. As colonial good at the centre of trade, gold cannot be separated from glorified colonialism. Therefore, I use gold in places where I aim to disrupt this glorification. It often points to harms and violence perpetrated in the name of colonialism. Where gold is present, it shines light on the harm, which too often hidden in colonial histories.

Silence embodied, spoken

Uprooted (2023) This work is a reflects the harm of ~forced~ migration. The work is made of a traditional Javanese/Indonesian fabric called Batik. The fabric is ripped, just like how migrants are ripped away from their cultural origin. While you can identify the shape, you cannot see what the original form of the fabric was, reflecting how migrants are removed from their communities. The pieces are separated as individual migrants often find distance between them in their host countries. Instead, each is placed in a new white surrounding with only threads holding them together. The pieces of fabric seem to be seeking how to place themselves in this new surrounding. The work represent how migration is a process of uprooting.

Assimilation is Violence (2023) This following work reflects the violence of assimilation. After migrants try to find new roots in their new place, assimilation is often required or expected. The fabric is painted white, to more and more assimilate to the white background, losing its vibrant colours and patterns. Whilst the colours are muted, it is remarkable that in the dying process, the white paint soaked the fabric without completely taking over the colours: the fabric’s colours kept coming to the surface, despite the many dying attempts. This epitomises the resistance against the violence of assimilation. It rejects prioritising and favouring of hegemonic European cultures – it embraces a pluriverse of cultures.

Reimagining Homelands (2023) The first section consists of a painting presenting two different landscapes, A Dutch canal view of the city Groningen, juxtaposed with a landscape of Indonesian rice fields. The cutting and replacing of the painting tiles allow the disruption of the separation. Instead, a new joint landscape is formed with its own particular geography. The new ordering of images shows continuations and interruptions, refection the internal convergences and divergences of the mixed mind.
The second section takes the replaced images and amplifies the newly created landscape. The tracing overrules the artificially cut borders and instead creates a flowing landscape that has natural crossings and disruptions, not limited by that what once was. It creates a whole landscape that whilst reminded of its past form, is a self-contained geography. This new landscape voids the choice, the separation. Instead, it embraces variety and connects it into one. It allows to find harmony in its disruptions and difference in alignments. It allows wholeness in dichotomy.

As a person from a post-colonial/independence diaspora community, and specifically as part of a culture that does not have a geographical location anymore and similarly has multiple geographies, the concept of a homeland is blurred. There is none/several particular place that feels like home in a cultural sense – there is the country that I grew up in, however being culturally mixed, that place lacks my other culture. There is no place for me to go to immerse myself in multifaceted conception of what I consider my culture. Therefore, this piece aims to reimagine what that would look like. First, combining the elements of landscape that carried the different cultures, then created from that a reimagined landscape that could depict a new geography of my culture, a new homeland.

Charlotte van Braam